


Snooze

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Mozart! - Levay/Kunze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-02
Updated: 2009-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by BluePeople</p><p>Mozart & Colloredo share a bed.  Sort of slash, but not exactly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snooze

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Valancy

 

 

A/N: For Valancy. This fic is kind of, sort of slashy. It was inspired by that website "Cute Things Falling Asleep," and it takes place while Mozart is composing for Colloredo at court. I haven't done my reading about this but I'm assuming he lived there for a while. Anyway it's easier to slash them if that's the case. :o)

************************************************

The first night their relationship turned strange, it was because Colloredo couldn't sleep.

His nights were usually restful and uneventful, but every once and awhile a dream woke him and then there was no going back. After a few minutes of lying in bed listening to his heart pound he would give up and get dressed. He'd stay up, reading or writing, perhaps wandering the halls if he got restless enough.

And this one night he found Mozart wandering the halls too. He jumped, then nodded a greeting and turned to go.

Mozart called after him: "What are you doing up?"

"Nothing," Colloredo said without turning. "I can't sleep."

"Oh. For me it's the opposite - I was working but I keep dozing off at my desk. I'm taking a walk to see if it helps..."

Colloredo made to leave again, but-...

"Wait! Come talk to me while I write, will you? I can't stay awake, but there's more I want to get done."

Colloredo was torn - he _hated_ to let the demanding little brat get his way in everything... but on the other hand, the idea of seeing him work was irresistible. He followed him in and sat by his desk. He watched in fascination as Mozart spun out line after line, and forgot even to _tsk_ disapprovingly when he spattered ink all over the carpet.

But eventually, even with Colloredo standing over him barking _Wake up!_ and _Pay attention!_ at irregular intervals, Mozart truly reached the end of his endurance. The second time he thunked facefirst into his desk the prince decided he had had enough. "Go to bed. You can keep going in the morning."

"What?" Mozart's eyes opened. "Going where? Oh. No, I'm busy now, I want to-..."

"You're going to become ill if you don't take care of yourself," Colloredo declared. "Get some rest; you can write tomorrow. Now." He rose and offered a hand.

Mozart let himself be led over to his bed, but once there he wouldn't let go of the prince's arm.

"Would you stay the night with me?" he asked sleepily. When Colloredo stiffened and pulled away, he frowned and tried to figure out what was the matter. "Oh! No - I didn't mean... not, not like _that_ , I just meant..."

"I knew what you meant," Colloredo lied. He hovered over the bed but didn't sit. The request was bizarre, but on the other hand this snoozy little boy... He tried not to think the word _endearing._

"Stay."

And besides, knowing his father it was it was unlikely the poor thing had been cuddled much in his youth. No wonder he was starving for it.

A compromise, perhaps. "I'll stay a few minutes til you've gone to sleep," he offered at last, bending to wrestle off his boots. "Get changed and lie down."

At first he sat up against the headboard, outside the covers, while Mozart curled up over his lap. Soon though, he found himself slipping lower and lower, til eventually his neck was bent at an awkward angle and he just gave up and decided to lie flat. He continued to stroke the young man's back, waiting for his breathing to even out so that he could get up and go... It was taking a while...

He half-woke to a tickly sensation on his chest, but it soon resolved itself into a pleasant warmth and he drifted off again.

He didn't fully awaken until there was sun in his eyes.

Sun? 

Morning. Why was there sun in his bedroom - had someone forgotten to draw the curtains?

But he wasn't in his bedroom.

Colloredo worked it out after a bit - he was in Mozart's bed; he'd spent the night after all. Mozart was still sleeping, half on top of him, sprawled out over his chest-

Over his _bare_ chest, he realized. The boy had somehow gotten his shirt open and wormed his way inside to lay his cheek against naked skin.

All of a sudden Mozart yawned and stirred. "I know you're awake," he murmured. "I heard your heart change." Then he jumped. "Oh!" he gasped, sitting up fast. "I didn't- I'm sorry I-... I was half asleep. The buttons were digging into my eye."

"Forgiven," Colloredo said drily, as he withdrew the hand that had somehow crept all the way up under Mozart's blouse to rest on his shoulderblade. He ignored the young man's poorly-stifled laugh and began setting his clothes to rights.

*************************************

They didn't really talk about it, but Mozart asked again a few nights later and after that Colloredo started sleeping over on an almost regular basis. He told himself that he was simply doing what was necessary to facilitate the creative process; the boy was doing good work and in order for it to continue he needed to get proper rest. That was all. The idea that he was enjoying it himself, that he loved the warmth of another person pressed against him at night... well, that was just simply silly.

It went on for maybe six or eight weeks. It ended the day Mozart exercised some really poor judgment. 

Mozart had awoken first, but was lying still. The prince might wake up if he moved, and it was funny to watch him sleep. He often snored, sometimes mumbled, and every now and again would drool, depending on their position.

Today Colloredo's face was serene. Nothing funny going on there... but when Mozart looked down he noticed something new and even funnier than the usual: the front of the prince's trousers was markedly tented. Either it was an unlucky fold and a trick of the light, or else there was something pointy in his pocket, or...

He found he had to know which. So, after one more quick glance to make sure the prince's eyes were really closed and he was really still sleeping, Mozart moved very slowly and quietly, and brushed his fingers over the suspicious bulge.

Colloredo's breath caught and he shifted.

 _Really?!_ Mozart pressed his lips together hard and managed to hold his laugh in. One more glance up, and then (after a count of three to get his nerve up) lay his whole hand flat over the prince's groin.

He didn't dare even breathe, as he waited to see what would happen.

What happened is the prince stirred, more actively than before, and then arched into the touch with a snorish sort of noise.

Mozart let his breath out slowly, in stages, trying to keep silent. It was the most hilarious thing he'd seen in a while, stern old Colloredo bumping his hips up in his sleep, so needy, rubbing against a hand he didn't even know was there...

After a bit Mozart tried rubbing a little himself, squeezing lightly, and the results were even more impressive: Colloredo jerked and groaned aloud. He did this every time Mozart massaged with confidence, and whimpered every time the touch tapered off.

It was funny enough that Mozart kept going, giggling silently as the prince's excitement built. It seemed to be a game of some kind and, competitive by nature, he was determined to win. His own experience had been that nobody could touch him quite as knowledgably as he could touch himself, so he decided now to get an expert's help: he moved Colloredo's own hand to his lap and watched what it did there. Aha - a little firmer, a bit more pressure.

Now that he knew what he was doing it was only a matter of time. Eventually the prince arched off the bed, shuddering, and moaned even louder than he had been. Success!

Then, before Mozart could even take his hand away, Colloredo's eyes opened. 

Mozart froze. He hadn't thought this far ahead, and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he should have.

*****************************

The End.

Hope you enjoyed!

 


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